It was raining heavily. Visibility was down to about 40 feet. We were down 12-8 on goals.

At the end line, all of us were already weary. We were only five, against the other team’s ten. We’ve been throwing, catching and running like hellhounds for the last sixty minutes. No substitutions, no chance to catch our breaths or rest our cramped limbs.

In the rain, I can see my teammates’ resolve to push on for the remaining ten minutes of the match. Water streaming down our faces, we gave each other whispered words of encouragement.

“We can still do this.”

“The next goal is ours!”

I just nodded. I’m conserving what remaining energy I have for a burst sprint that will most probably be needed from me in a few minutes.

Rod threw the disc for the pull. We were playing defense for this next goal.

We ran, taking up a man from the opponent’s team and marked each of them. I can vaguely hear the cheers coming from the grandstand, drowned out by the water splashes made by our cleated shoes pounding on the rain-soaked playing field.

I and my teammates were already at the limits of our endurance. Running and defending against our opponents, hoping for a possible interception and turnover. I can sense that all of us were already slowing down.

And then luck smiled upon us. An opponent fumbled on one of the passes and failed to catch the disc. It was a turnover. The rain receded slightly.

We seized the opportunity.

By some mental connection, all of us knew where to go and what to do.

Vern, at midfield, threw the disc to Rod. JP and I were sprinting towards our goalzone. The disc's flight was arced, but Rod caught it while running.

Rod held the disc for a few seconds longer, waiting for JP to establish his position at the quarterfield.

I kept on running towards the goalzone. I glanced back, and saw Rod threw the disc backhanded to JP.

Two defenders were going towards JP. While running, I gave JP the nod to throw the disc.

He threw it. Forehand throw. High. The disc gained elevation momentarily.

And I ran like hell after it, feeling the rain streaming down my face. I could hear the cheers coming from the grandstand.

I was almost near the end of the goalzone, but the disc is still 6 feet above and away from me.

I jumped, my left arm stretched upwards, my momentum bringing me directly under the disc.

I felt my fingers connect with the disc.

I finger-clawed the disc.
….
…
..
.

“AAAAOOOOWWWW…”, the crowd cried unhappily.

The disc slid by my fingers. It flew on, outside the goal zone.

I landed on the wet ground, frustrated, and collapsed my whole body on the grass.
I was panting.
The puddle I was lying on comforted me.

------------------------

Our team lost eventually, 13-8.

We were tired and wet. We huddled underneath a tree. Our white jerseys were now brown, soiled with mud. We clapped each other’s back for the hard-fought battle earlier.

But many people, including our opponents, came up to us and congratulated us for a great game, despite our numbers being few. Some of the viewers from the grandstand even told us that they've become our “fans” while watching the game.

One guy, in particular, summarized everything neatly. "You guys have great hearts."

Until the next game.